


The Late Blooms in August

by bellwort



Category: Mob Psycho 100, モブサイコ100
Genre: F/M, Love Confession, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellwort/pseuds/bellwort
Summary: A little empathy can go a long way.





	The Late Blooms in August

**Author's Note:**

  * For [appledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/appledust/gifts).

He was quite lucky, as told by Tome, that Tsubomi was willing to talk with him after school.

“She's a celestial being! It's amazing she even spoke to you at all!”

Kageyama twisted his hands in his lap. “Is it really that strange?”

Tome shook him violently. Kageyama got the message after a while. Apparently she had never been seen out after school with another boy. However, Tome was very invested to be so curious about another classmate.

It was pure coincidence, really. He bumped into her in the hallway, an invitation spilling out of his mouth without even a thought.

When she had accepted, the shock hadn't quite registered until later, during his math class. 

The park. They were going to meet at the park after school, about six thirty.

Now here he was, exiting the flower shop ten dollars poorer.

One, for the skinned knees from falling in a game of tag.

Two, for the pink bubblegum lipstick that nobody in the school wears except for her.

Three, for the blue of her eyes.

He clutched the bouquet in his hand. Today he was going to confess to Tsubomi.

Tsubomi was not late, contrary to Kageyama’s expectations. In fact, it was Kageyama who was late.

He had arrived at the park sweaty and panting. The train had broken down and there were no open cabs nearby. He had to run from the nearest train station.

She peered up at him. “You're late.” An observation, not a complaint.

The wind felt cool on his skin.

“I'm sorry. The train had an issue.”

She hummed, nodding, before scooting over to make room for him. She patted the empty space.

Kageyama thanked her, gingerly placing his bag down and carefully gripping onto the flowers in his hand. They had been cut hours ago and now the blooms were already beginning to show the very slightest of wilting.

He wanted to get this over with. Move on. Yes, move on. Sweat prickled the back of his neck. He jumped to the point quickly.

“I wanted—I came here today to tell you I liked you.”

Tsubomi sat still in her seat, unmoving. Kageyama held his head low.

He held the flowers, trembling. “When we were kids, I admired you. I thought you were strong and pretty.” He paused. “Which you still are.”

His gaze remained below her cheeks. He didn't dare look up. He was afraid. His tongue felt knotted. The words on his lips felt tumbled and rushed, but he couldn't stop them from coming out. 

“Up until now, I have always liked you. Even when we weren’t friends anymore, I still felt warm when I thought of you.”

“I've changed. I've changed a lot since I was little. I have friends. I exercise more now. I joined clubs to impress you, signed up for the school election, dressed differently. And one day I had even considered that I was in love with you.”

Kageyama stopped. His entire body was shaking, his voice wavering and he hesitated, drawing the bouquet from his lap. He was too frightened to give it to her. He drew his head up from his chest. He couldn't tell if Tsubomi was staring at him or something else.

“I realized,” he said softly, “that I was in love with the idea of you. I didn't love the real you as much as I thought.”

Tsubomi’s hand moved and gripped the edge of the bench. She tucked her hair back and breathed. His face felt hot.

He gnawed on his lip. “I'm sorry for bringing you out here this late. I just wanted to let you know.”

His hands tightly clenched the fabric of his pants. He might just cry. Kageyama quickly stood up from the seat and stood in front of her. His knees were shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Thank you for your time.”

“Kageyama.”

He forced himself to look her in the eyes.

There was no hatred, no shock on her face. Instead, she gave him a warm smile.

“Thank you for telling me this, Kageyama.”

It was inevitable. He cried and cried when his face flamed bright red from the embarrassment of having Tsubomi quietly watching him cry. His face was sticky with salt and water. His sleeves were wet and his white cuffs were stained grey.

Tsubomi shuffled a bit, bringing her leg to the side. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. She placed it into his hands.

He blew his nose, though not as gracefully as he wanted.

“Thank you.” He sobbed again. He hadn't known he had been keeping so much inside.

Strangely enough, she waited for him, and as time passed on the atmosphere slowly dimmed down to a peaceful evening. His bawling had toned down to a sniffle. 

Tsubomi smoothed out her skirt, elegant as she was, and straightened her back. Her voice was gentle like a flower and Kageyama couldn't remember if that was her true voice from when they were kids or a different voice she had obtained through school.

“You were very brave for telling me. Thank you for sharing with me.”

She did not need to tell him that she could not return his feelings. It was enough, already, to leave it unsaid. She touched her hair briefly. Then she stood over him, almost resembling a guardian of sorts, before she turned away. Her phone gleamed on her face.

“It's late. I need to head home now.”

He weakly nodded. The best he could manage without breaking down again.

The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Let's talk again, Kageyama.”

He had then remembered the flowers he wanted to give her. His hands clamored and he whipped his head back. But she was gone, gone like the wind.

He glanced down at the bouquet, still delicate and intact. The overhanging lantern glowed on the plastic, his face luminous. The silver foil mirrored the stars in the night sky. 

One, for the skinned knees from falling in a game of tag.

Two, for the pink bubblegum lipstick that nobody in the school wears except for her.

Three, for the blue of her eyes.

The colors were so different in the dark.

His hair tickled his forehead and he stared at his reflection, not quite recognizing the look in his eyes and his mouth.

It seemed he was not as heartbroken as he had thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I was madly motivated to write this fic in the middle of nowhere. Self indulgent and messily written. Hope you enjoy.


End file.
